


an invitation to central station

by theawkwardowl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oops, Ouch, Violence, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24491488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theawkwardowl/pseuds/theawkwardowl
Summary: “There’s a necklace worth 2.5 billion dollars sitting in his house, eating dust in the back of some cabinet. That necklace is their family heirloom, passed down for hundreds of generations without ever being shown off. That necklace alone is enough to pay off my debt and everyone else’s.”“So?”“You don’t get it, do you? I’m asking you to steal that from him and bring it to me.”-Gang au, in which Keiji is entrusted with a mission but for the first time, he can’t bring himself to finish it.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. live

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, this is my first fanfiction so BEAR WITH ME!!  
> I promise they get happy endings. I love them too much to not give them that.  
> Thanks for reading!!

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was two tickets shoved into his face. The paper tickled his nose, the corners prodding unpleasantly at his cheek. Frowning at Kuroo’s lack of personal space, he shoved the hand away, rubbing his eyes as a huge yawn escaped from his mouth. The digital clock buzzed 8 in the morning but on a Saturday, that was 3 hours too early for him to be awake. Unlike his roommate, Keiji appreciated sleeping in until the double digits. 

“What is this?” He asked, staring at the excited grin on Kuroo’s face.

“I just got tickets to the 'Lion King: Live!' for Friday evening!” Kuroo yelled, shaking the two slips of paper. “And guess what? I managed to get a second one, so get ready to wear your Sunday’s best to an event I’ve been waiting all year for!”

“Who said I’d come along with you?”

“As long as we’re roommates, it’s a given, Keiji.” Kuroo rolled his eyes. “You’re always so pessimistic.”

“I wish I could have your optimism.” Keiji slung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched, frowning when he noticed an additional decoration to Kuroo’s pale face. The tiny maroon dash was barely noticeable in the dimly lit room, but Keiji knew Kuroo like the back of his hand. He reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb over the cut under Kuroo’s eye. Kuroo’s breathing hitched as he realised he got caught. “Hey, what happened here?”

“Oh, this?” Kuroo leaned back, away from the touch and the question, and plopped down on his bed, safely away from Keiji’s outstretched hand. “Nothing. Just a small scuffle.”

Keiji narrowed his eyes at the many cuts and purple splotches that littered Kuroo’s arms and cheek that hadn’t been there the previous morning. The idiot was getting into fistfights _again_ , despite the many times that the Philanthropist had told them to stay away from opponents that they couldn’t defeat with one hit.

Then again, this was Kuroo he was talking about. Overconfident, extremely prideful, and eternally stubborn Kuroo Tetsurou, whom Keiji doubted anyone could defeat. The opponent Kuroo had been up against was probably nothing compared to Kuroo’s skill, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t leave a mark.

“You know better than to lie to me,” Keiji said as Kuroo scowled. “What did you do?”

Kuroo kept his mouth shut. His eyebrows formed a firm line above his eyes.

“Those tickets aren’t yours, are they?”

Silence.

“You stole them from someone, didn’t you?”

A hard stare.

“Tell me they’re fine.”

“We’re not supposed to care about that.” Kuroo snapped. “Why are you softhearted, anyway? Considering how it was the Philanthropist who brought you up himself, I thought you’d be a little more resilient than that.”

“Answer my question.”

A pause. “You know I didn’t kill them.”

The silence stretched on for ages before Kuroo met his eyes and said, “I’ll give them back if that’s what you want.”

Keiji smiled. Where was the fun in that? “So what are we wearing for Friday?”

-

The last time he wore a suit was last April when his high school hosted their annual banquet for the graduating seniors and Keiji and Kuroo were dragged along by Washio as his plus ones. It was uncomfortable, sitting in a giant room with a scratchy suit and a tie that looked awkward on Keiji’s already-tiny frame, surrounded by the faces of his upperclassmen that he’s never tried to talk to. Kuroo had looked more relaxed, easing into a sly smile and spending the evening talking to various girls who’d captured his attention. It bothered Keiji that Kuroo could talk to strangers so easily, and his charming demeanour did nothing but boost Kuroo’s ego while Keiji shied away in the shadows with his habitual clunky awkwardness. He’s always had a problem meeting new people, much less speaking in conversation with them. He’s learned that the hard way, so he doesn’t try to make new friends.

He stuck to Washio the entire evening. From the way that Washio made sure to include him in his conversations, Keiji knew that Washio pitied him.

That was four months ago. As Keiji pulled out the same suit from his closet, he was glad that he didn’t need to talk to anyone in fancy clothing for the evening. They were just going there to watch a show. No need to talk to anyone, no need to shake hands or do anything prestigious. Besides, that evening, he had another idea he wanted to spring on Kuroo, one that would take him by surprise and hopefully make his evening all the better. He’d found an apartment up in Central Station, closer to school and further away from the complex. He knew Kuroo would be more than willing to move in with him.

He sneezed as he pulled the dusty blue blazer over his shoulders.

“Stop being so uptight,” Kuroo remarked as Keiji straightened out the hem of the blazer. He shut the door behind him, stopping by the bathroom to check on his appearance. He’d gelled his hair and swept it away from his forehead, revealing the full expanse of his face that, honestly, looked pretty odd to Keiji. His messy black hair was gelled neatly to his head and he looked like a different person altogether. “You look like you just ate a lemon.”

“Shut up. You look odd.”

“You’re just not used to looking at someone whose looks surpass your own by thousands of points.”

“You are so rude,” Keiji picked up his phone and wallet and shoved them into his pockets. “Ready to go yet?”

“Of course.” Kuroo walked back out, wearing a toothy grin. “I’ve waited my whole life for this moment, Keiji.”

Keiji hummed in his throat to acknowledge Kuroo’s excitement. He shut the door behind him and winced as he stepped on the edge of a particularly wet patch on the carpeted ground of the hallway. Kuroo scrunched his nose as a nasty scent hit his nostrils. “Oh, God, who threw up this time?”

“Outside our door, too,” Keiji observed, gingerly stepping around the noticeably dark puddle and heading down the stairs. “I was waiting for the day it would happen to us. We need to tell the Philanthropist about it. Someone has to clean up the mess.”

“No, not him.” Kuroo dashed after him, grabbing his elbow. “Do you want someone on this floor to die?”

“Well, who else can we-“

“We’re not telling him, no.” Kuroo’s lips were set in a firm line. His eyes were ablaze, and when he turned around to meet Keiji’s inquisitive stare, all Keiji could see was fear reflected in the golden yellow depths. “Not him. Leave it alone. Let’s go.”

Keiji sighed. He should’ve known better.

They left their phones at the counter, where the Diplomat scribbled down the time on the inside of their wrists before giving them a curt nod of approval. They headed out, where the Butler stood by a sleek car, waiting for them. He opened the car door for them before speeding down the street.

“I can’t believe this!” Kuroo said giddily, barely sitting still as the car screeched down a turn. “We’re _finally_ going to see The Lion King live! My life goal is complete.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past week, Kuroo.” Keiji rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so excited you miss the entire show.”

“You _know_ that’s not going to happen.”

“The last time we went to a live show, you peed your pants halfway and had to go home.”

“Don’t jinx it!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

The theatre was crowded, hundreds of people standing idly in the lobby, waiting for the show to start. Kuroo looked ablaze with excitement, his eyes flicking around the main hall at an alarming speed, trying to take in everything. He stopped outside the large glass doors, fingers hooked tightly around the loops in his pants as he stared. There was an almost unnoticeable skip in his step when he walked in, walking quickly as he was overcome with excitement and thrill. Keiji almost felt bad for him, but he had to forcefully drag his roommate away from the crowd because Kuroo had bumped into at least five people within the past two minutes.

“You are being _uncivilised._ ” Keiji hissed as Kuroo shot him a questioning stare. “You know, for being someone as smart as you are, I thought you’d have a little more common sense.”

“But we’re thugs.” Kuroo cocked his head to the side. “We’re not civilised.”

“We’re in public.” Keiji kicked Kuroo in the ankles. “We’re at the premiere night of a _live show_. There’s no way anyone with our status could fit in here, much less afford to be here right now, so act like you’re proper, please.”

“Always so uptight.” Kuroo clicked his tongue, a sly smirk stretching on his face. “I’m going to the bathroom. Stay here.”

“I’m not a dog,” Keiji watched Kuroo leave, a light skip in his step as he dodged the clusters of people on his way out of the hall. As he looked away, his eyes landed on a particular guy that looked about his age, standing not too far away, leaning on a table with despicable posture and an air of superiority that stained the area around him. He was talking to someone, letting out a booming laugh as his friend told him a joke. He crossed his legs, the hem of his pants lifting and revealing his mismatched socks. His hair, unlike everyone else in the room, was dyed an obnoxious shade of grey at the tips, the roots growing back dark and visible in between the grey strands. It was gelled to spike upwards, resembling some sort of cardboard crown on top of his head.

_Nothing about him screamed luxury. Who is he, a commoner?_

At that moment, Commoner’s friend walked away, waving two empty bottles in the air as he headed to a trash can. Commoner exhaled loudly and chose that exact moment to turn around and look lazily around the room, freezing when he met Keiji’s eyes in the process.

Round, golden eyes stared back at emerald green ones inquisitively. Keiji tensed up, unsure of what to do.

They held each other’s gaze for a solid fifteen seconds. Keiji snapped his gaze away to blink.

But it was useless because the guy was heading towards him, and Keiji figured that it would be rude for him to walk away now. He desperately wished that Kuroo would be coming back soon because Keiji is no charmer and would probably turn the guy away with his questionable sense of humour and God-awful sarcasm. Kuroo could probably save him and the guy both the embarrassment.

He wasn’t a very good companion, anyway. Neither did he care enough to want to be one, as his future was going to be centred solely around numbers and office desks.

“Hey, hey!” Commoner stopped in front of Keiji, sporting bright eyes and a toothy grin. Keiji had to narrow his eyes. “Excited for the show?”

Keiji cleared his throat before answering. “I guess.”

His mind was a muddled mess. Kuroo knew he wasn’t good at talking to other people, yet abandoned him to face this situation all on his own. All he could think about was _Please, please leave me alone_ and _Kuroo I will beat your ass up for bringing me here._

“What kind of answer is that?” The guy scrunched up his nose, eerily similar to the way Kuroo reacted to the puddle of vomit outside their door. “This is, like, the biggest event of the year. Shouldn’t you be more excited, if you even managed to land the tickets to this place?”

With the way he asked it, Keiji knew instantly that he was of luxury. The guy was rich and he knew it.

“I was dragged here by my roommate," Keiji replied. “It’s more of his thing. I’m not the type for live shows… or whatever this is. I didn’t know about this until last Saturday.”

“You’re _kidding_ ,” The guy gawked. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this!”

“Then you’d get along with my roommate just fine.” Keiji swept a glance around the lobby. Still no sign of Kuroo. He must’ve gotten lost on his way back. _What an idiot._

“And not you?” Commoner leaned against the wall, arching an eyebrow at him. Keiji blinked twice when he noticed that the guy even dyed his eyebrows grey to match his hair. How unflattering.

“Huh?” At this point, Keiji is unsure if he’s more creeped out or uncomfortable. For one, there’s a weird guy with grey eyebrows talking to him. For another, the dude isn’t taking the hint that Keiji doesn’t care.

“I’m talking to you, not your roommate.” He shrugged. “That should say something.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keiji asked, even though he knew for certain what the other guy was trying to say.

“You’re the one that’s standing alone in a room full of people, not your friend.” The guy blinked. “I’m here to help you out, you know. Make a friend.”

Baffled, Keiji could only cough out, “I don’t need your help,” as he tried to process the innocent insult he’d just received like a slap to the face. So the guy thought he was lonely and a loser that got ditched by his friend. What in the world?

“What’s your name, by the way?” The guy grinned, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Keiji winced at the sudden weight along his back. “Let’s be friends!”

“I really don’t need-“ Keiji began, but he noticed the flash of black in the corner of his eye and he sighed in relief. “Oh, thank God, Kuroo!”

“Kuroo?” Commoner turned around and, to Keiji’s horror, extended his free arm in a wave. “Hey, hey, hey!”

Kuroo’s questioning stare glazed over coldly as he shoved the guy against the wall, grabbed his arm and, in two seconds flat, bent it behind his back. The guy’s eyes widened with shock as Kuroo bent down to his height and, in a low voice, said, “Don’t touch him.”

_Oh, jeez._

“Huh-?! I’m sorry, I wasn’t-?!”

“Calm down,” Keiji interrupted, leaning over and smacking Kuroo on the head with his palm. The other protested loudly, whining as he rubbed the spot where Keiji’s palm made contact with his forehead. “You’re overreacting. It’s fine.”

Kuroo stared at him with cold and confused eyes before letting go of the stranger, who rubbed his wrist questioningly. Thankfully, no one had noticed the commotion, but the guy looked significantly more wary of them as his large golden eyes flickered between Keiji and Kuroo.

“He told us not to,” Kuroo said, ignoring the stranger and grabbing Keiji’s elbow. “He told you not to, and he warned us not to. Come on. The show is about to start.”

Keiji kept his eyes looking forward, but he felt the blazing stare of the stranger on the back of his head.

-

The show was amazing if Keiji _had_ to say something about it. He could only care so much about a show he didn’t like as a kid. Sure, the acting was amazing and the performances well-choreographed and over the top, but it wasn’t remotely interesting to him. Kuroo, meanwhile, was gushing all about it, adrenaline still in his system as he mentioned his favourite parts of the entire performance, which was mostly _everything._

“I get it, it’s great,” Keiji said blandly as Kuroo talked about the live orchestra for the fifth time _._

Kuroo had to use the bathroom again, so Keiji stood by the entrance, aimlessly tapping his foot as he watched the cars whizz past on the street. The heat and humidity were getting to him and he shrugged off his blazer, sighing as the wind passed over his thin button-up. He could feel the sweat gathering on his forehead and he winced. He’d forgotten to wear his deodorant.

A familiar shout rang out through the lobby. Keiji frowned.

The shouting continued and Keiji thought blankly that if the guy kept screaming, he was going to get a headache.

“Oi!” The voice, too familiar, caused him to turn his head and, _oh no_ , meet the eyes of the stranger from earlier.

“You didn’t tell me he was your boyfriend.” The guy said so blandly that Keiji choked on air. He was still smiling, seemingly typical of him, despite Kuroo’s rough handling of him from earlier and the cold way in which they’d brushed him off.

“What-?! Where did you get that from?” Keiji hissed. “He’s not my boyfriend! He’s just my roommate.”

“Yeah, right.” The guy stopped a few steps away from Keiji, just enough to show that he was interested in making conversation but keeping his distance. “You should’ve told me earlier! Then I would understand.”

“For the last time, he’s not my boyfriend.” Keiji rolled his eyes. “And I don’t want to talk to you, I’m not interested in making a friend.”

The guy blinked. “But you’re talking-“

“Koutarou!”

The guy visibly froze, eyes wide, before turning around to the source of the voice. An older man stood a few feet away, glancing at a very expensive watch on his wrist. Keiji’s stomach lurched. That watch could probably pay for the rent of the new place Keiji was looking at.

That is if he could even move into it.

“Hurry up.” The man barked. “We need to get going.”

The guy - Koutarou - turned back to Keiji, looking as if he wanted to say something, but the man yelled his name again and Koutarou ducked his head in apology.

“I’ll see you around!” Koutarou yelled at Keiji before turning away. “You have yet to tell me your name!”

“I-“ Keiji started, but Koutarou was already too far away. He followed the man obediently as they walked outside, the glass doors swinging shut behind them. They approached a sleek black car that, judging from the gleam on its exterior, looked like it had only been driven once. The car door slammed shut behind him, and he was gone.

“Wealthy people,” Kuroo said from Keiji’s side. Keiji jumped, not even realising he was there. Kuroo shot him an amused grin. “I never understand them.”

“Kuroo,” Keiji started as they walked outside together. The evening air felt like a thick blanket draped over his shoulders, humid and heavy. It was probably not a good time to talk about this, especially since they were in public and the Philanthropist had his eyes on them all the time. Kuroo hummed in his throat anyway, acknowledging him.

The words were trapped in Keiji’s throat as he tried to make a decision. Should he tell him? Should he wait? Right now, as they were walking down the busy street, this suddenly didn’t seem like a very good idea. It seemed more dangerous than appealing at this moment. Maybe Keiji should’ve waited until they got back to their room before bringing it up.

But Kuroo raised an eyebrow expectantly, and Keiji found himself opening his mouth again. _It’s Kuroo. What can you possibly be afraid of?_

“I found a new apartment I liked down at Central Station.” Keiji continued. “The rent is not too expensive and it’s a fairly decent size. Two bedrooms, on the twenty-second floor, has ceiling-length windows and looks out to a city view with the campus. I was wondering if-”

Kuroo stopped in his tracks. Keiji paused, turning around to look at him questioningly. His string of words stopped when he saw the pained expression Kuroo wore on his face.

“You’re leaving me?” Kuroo’s voice was barely above a whisper. He looked hurt and betrayed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Bewildered, Keiji stepped towards him and pulled at his elbow. _This idiot._ “No, no! I was wondering if you’d like to move in with me, after I get permission from the Philanthropist to move in, anyway. We’re starting college in September, so I figured we should live closer to campus.”

But Kuroo didn’t seem thrilled at all. Instead, he yanked his arm away from Keiji, a knowing expression flitting across his features. Keiji felt his blood run cold. “Both you and I know that the two of us can’t leave the complex.”

And Keiji had no more words to say.


	2. cigar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission is assigned and Keiji and Kuroo aren't excited about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll mention Bokuto soon!! He'll be in the next chapter :D  
> ALSOOO if you can leave comments, that'll be great! I love hearing feedback and advice so I can improve!  
> Thanks for reading!!

“Are you sure?”

The landlady looked confused, a small scrunch in the area between her eyebrows. She stared at the paper blankly, turning her face up to look at Keiji. She didn’t seem to be comprehending the information Keiji had been giving her for the past few minutes.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Keiji sighed. “You can rent it to the other buyer. My roommate wasn’t interested.”

“But…” The landlady gaped. “Is there something wrong with the apartment? The water? The air conditioning? The windows-“

“No, no, it’s not that at all!” Keiji protested, holding his hands out as she rambled on. “My roommate just doesn’t want to move, that’s all! He prefers staying at the complex we live in now.”

“But Main Street is so far from campus!” The landlady argued. “My apartment… it’s so convenient for the two of you! It would only be a minute’s walk away from school and you wouldn’t even need to search very far for the supermarket! I… I thought he’d love the idea!”

“I did too, trust me.” Keiji chewed on his lip. “That’s why I’d asked you to hold on to it for so long. I was looking forward to this just as much as you were. I’m so sorry, I didn’t think that he’d turn me down, but at least there’s still another buyer looking at this place?”

“Oh, Akaashi,” The landlady sighed, placing the form back down on the table. “I _don’t_ want to rent it to the other buyer. They told me they have two dogs! Giant ones! They’re going to wreck the apartment!”

“I’m sure the dogs won’t move in with them, right? There wouldn’t be enough space. ” Keiji tried to reassure her, but inside he was freaking out. He didn’t know how to comfort people, especially not older women with greying hair freaking out over him declining their apartment offers. He was never good at consoling, anyway. “Do you know who it is?”

“Bokuto,” The landlady shook her head. “Despite how much money his family has, I don’t trust those millionaires with a place like mine. Please tell your friend to think about it longer, okay, Akaashi? You’re the only one I trust to rent it to!”

“He’s not my-“ Keiji started, but the landlady was shoving the form back into his hands.

“Please, please,” she repeated. “I don’t trust anyone else.”

Keiji found himself standing outside her door, the form still in his hands, his heart and face heavy with confusion. He wore the tired expression as he walked glumly back into the main lobby of the apartment complex, greeting the Butler and the Diplomat at the front counter as they rubbed off the time stamp and handed him his phone. The Butler patted down Keiji’s clothes, barely missing the form that burned in his back pocket. Keiji’s heart raced as the Butler made a noise in his throat, frowning slightly to himself before backing away. The Diplomat tapped him on the wrist before Keiji could turn away, and when Keiji lifted his eyebrows to acknowledge him, the Diplomat whispered quietly, “He’s not in the room.”

Keiji swallowed heavily before nodding and walking away.

The room was too quiet without Kuroo’s obnoxious lo-fi blasting from his speakers. Kuroo’s desk was as he had left it, save for the phone and Kuroo’s camera that the Apothecary must have taken with him. Keiji took a cold shower, brushed his teeth, and got ready for bed, too tired to even process what had happened earlier that day. The landlady’s form sat heavily in his pocket and his betrayal left a bitter taste in his mouth. In the distance, he hears the screaming.

And suddenly he was angry, angry at himself and angry at Kuroo because Kuroo had been selfish, because the screaming had become a familiar pattern of his life that Kuroo didn’t want to get rid of. He’d come back barely alive, wearing that smirk that he always did, and he would reassure Keiji that nothing could ever happen to _him_ because fighting was the only thing Kuroo knew how to live for and the only thing he could win.

What a waste.

Keiji had handed him a way to run, a way to the beginnings of a new life, even though they both knew that it wouldn’t last for long. Still, it was a long shot, one that Keiji was willing to take if it meant that he and Kuroo could finally live away from the watchful eyes of the owners of the complex. Yet Kuroo had rejected it for the late evenings that he spends in the dark, dark room. Keiji knows what happens in that room and he’s repulsed by it.

A particularly anguished scream cuts through the air and Keiji winces. Kuroo was at it again, despite the many times that Keiji’s told him to stop going and he’s told Keiji in return not to worry.

But worry is all Keiji could do.

As well as feel that familiar sense of fury and relief when Kuroo comes back in one piece, barely alive but, thankfully, in one piece. 

He sits on his bed, curled up against the wall, playing gentle lo-fi from Kuroo’s playlist on his phone to himself to drown out the screaming.

The door opens a little past 2 in the morning and even though Keiji had dozed off and the music stopped, he could recognise that gentle click anywhere, and it has grown on him to become his favourite sound in the world. He bolts out of bed towards Kuroo.

This time, Kuroo looks drained, far more exhausted than any of the previous nights. His eyes are tired, his cheeks saggy, his hair dishevelled from his previously perfect gel, but he shoots Keiji the familiar smirk as he says, “Lo-fi? Seriously?”

“Bastard,” Keiji snarls, but it doesn’t stop him from circling his arms around Kuroo’s shoulders, breathing in the familiar scent of sweat, chemicals, and fear. There was something foreign that clung to his skin today, but Keiji decided to ask about it tomorrow. Kuroo’s body shook as he shut the door behind them. The camera bag drops heavily from his shoulder onto the carpeted ground.

“Did you know they cleaned up the vomit outside our room?” Kuroo continued. “You didn’t even have to tell the Philanthropist!”

But Keiji wasn’t listening to his words, because he was listening to the fast and heavy beating of someone’s heart, and he’s not sure if it’s Kuroo’s or his own.

-

Keiji wakes up to Kuroo sitting at the foot of his bed, holding a form in front of him. His yellow eyes gloss over the words, reading them over and over, the same way he’d memorise an excerpt for an exam. The paper is crumpled underneath his hands, showing that Kuroo has woken up much earlier than Keiji and has spent most of his morning reading the form.

“Kuroo?”

Kuroo’s gaze flicks over to Keiji before turning back to the paper. “Yo, good morning.”

In the afternoon light, Kuroo looks healthy. The gentle slope of his neck shows muscular build and a promising immune system, healthy and lively, and the easy smirk on his face flashes nothing but charm. His shoulders are set and firm and his back is gently bent as he rests his elbows on his knees. His soft black hair falls messily over his face and sticks up awkwardly in the back. If anyone saw him there, they’d think he was the charmer of the century.

But from the small way Kuroo’s hands shook as he read the paper to the way his blinks lasted a second longer than necessary, Keiji could tell that he was conflicted and that he was scared.

“Why do you keep going back?” Keiji asked, despite knowing the answer.

“It gives me a sense of victory,” Kuroo replied instantly, setting the paper down on the bed. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“One day, you won’t be.”

“My life is entirely in my own hands. I always win.”

Keiji shook his head. “I don’t understand why you won’t let me talk to him about it. I know you hate it.”

“I never said such a thing.” Kuroo bristled. “In fact, my sole purpose is to return there and come back out in one piece. I do that. I did that. I’ll do it again.”

“The apartment, Kuroo.” Keiji jerked his chin at the paper. “She’s holding the lease for me. Let’s get out of here. Let’s run away.”

“You know we can’t.” Kuroo leaned against the wall, crossing his arms behind his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“What if we can?” Keiji argued. “I’m unhappy here. You’re unhappy. Let’s just go. We can brainstorm a plan that’ll guarantee us safety, even if it’s only for the next few months. Heck, I know you can, you’re a genius.”

“You are so naive, Akaashi Keiji.” Kuroo turned to look at him. Inside the yellow depths, something dangerous swirled. “It’s absolutely useless to try to get away. He’s got so many eyes on us all the time. You know we won’t get very far if we tried to run.”

“What will I have to do in order for you to do this with me?” Keiji met his gaze daringly.

“Kill them,” Kuroo said without hesitation. His gaze was cold. “All of them; the Philanthropist, the Apothecary, the Alchemist, the Butler, the Diplomat, the Investigator, the Spy, all of them.”

“You know I can’t do that. He never trained me. I’m weak. All I can do is run, which sounds the most promising right about now.”

“You’re his favourite.” Kuroo leaned in so his face was only a few inches away from Keiji’s. His eyes are more intense than Keiji has ever seen, but he doesn’t move back. He’s not scared. “That’s why he sends you on all of those dangerous missions because he knows that you’d always complete the task with utmost perfection. He’ll do anything you ask.”

Keiji brushes his hand over the cut on his midriff and shakes his head. The scab remains, dark, jagged, and ugly against his pale skin. The memory is not fond. “Not anything.”

Kuroo’s eyes flick downwards to where Keiji’s hand lingers over his shirt. “That was my fault, and you know it.”

“It was my decision.”

“It’s only because you’re entitled to. I’m your roommate. He told you to keep an eye on me.”

“We grew up together. Besides, I can make my own decisions, Kuroo.”

Kuroo’s eye twitched. “After college, they’re going to move me out of this room. What are you going to do then? Follow me to the next one?”

“Of course.”

“And you say you make your own decisions.”

“I’ll do it because I want to.”

“You can get a job.” Kuroo swallowed bitterly, his Adam’s apple rising up and down. “You can live a much better life because you’d be too old for him by then. He’ll let you out. You can move on. Hey, you can even move into that apartment that you really want.”

“I’m not leaving you alone here.” Keiji snapped, and Kuroo blinked twice in surprise. “I’m not leaving until you leave with me. If I walk out of that front door permanently, I’m expecting you to be next to me.”

The sly smirk was back. “There’s going to be a room ready for us on the fifteenth floor in a few years.”

“We’re getting out of here before then.”

“Shut up,” Kuroo grinned. “They’ll hear you.”

-

The Philanthropist called him into the Room after lunch.

The Butler had given him the information, standing rigidly by the door of their room as he repeated the message. Kuroo was stirring the noodles as the Butler read off the paper, freezing when Keiji’s name was addressed. Keiji looked up from the frying pan, blinking twice before giving the Butler his answer.

His voice came out cool and collected, just like it always did, but deep inside, he was terrified. His wrists felt weak and flimsy and his hands shook as he stirred the chicken. He never knew what to expect with the Philanthropist and most of the time, they were things that had to do with Kuroo which Keiji received an obligatory beating for.

He never complained. He wasn’t the one in the dark room almost every night, anyway. What he had to face was too good compared to what Kuroo was met with in those horrible evenings. Needless to say, he didn’t have the right to complain.

“Think you’ll be okay?” Kuroo asked as Keiji headed out the door.

Keiji rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to die. Calm down.”

“We don’t know why he called you.”

“We’re about to, but only if you’d calm yourself and let me go.”

Kuroo smirked. “I don’t worry about you, Akaashi Keiji.”

“You don’t have to. Who said I can’t take care of myself?”

But, in reality, Keiji felt like his legs might give out any minute now.

He stopped outside the Room, feeling significantly weaker than he did that morning despite having slept for over twelve hours. The familiar oak door looked too-familiar for Keiji’s own good, and it was then that he remembers exactly how often the Philanthropist had called him into the Room as he grew up.

He called Kuroo a lot, too, but they went in for different reasons.

He knocked timidly, waiting for the Philanthropist to respond. A tap sounded from the other side, and a familiar voice drawled out, “Come in, Akaashi.”

Keiji pushed the door open and met the fond eyes of a foreign man sitting behind a giant wooden desk. He draped elegantly over the armchair, smoking a cigar as he met Keiji’s eyes. The room is hazy with the smoke and the scent lingered nastily in Keiji’s nostrils. Flashes of an unpleasant and bitter memory stabbed at the back of Keiji’s eyes, but he forced a smile as he sat down in front of the man.

_Kuroo bent over backwards on this same desk, his hair yanked back by an older man as kids in the complex threw punches at him-_

No. He can’t be thinking of that.

_The side of his face is bloody and he’s crying, but the older kids think it’s funny and they don’t stop-_

“Akaashi, what are you thinking about?”

Keiji’s eyes refocus onto the ugliest man he’s ever seen, the fond and foreign smile so disgusting against the beautiful decorations of the Room.

The beautiful decorations that he spent the past eighteen years of his life stealing for him.

“Nothing,” Keiji’s voice comes out firm and solid. “It’s just been a while.”

“There hasn’t been anything I needed for a while, anyway.” The Philanthropist drawled. He placed the cigar down and tapped his fingertips against each other. He looked deep in thought, his dark, dark eyes casting a long look over the ceiling. It was a while before he spoke again.

“A new family moved into town.” He cracked his knuckles. “They’re rich. Extremely rich. You and Kuroo probably saw them last night.”

“Who?” Keiji asked, gripping the edge of the chair. He pressed his hand against the hard chair, feeling the cold wood digging into his palms.

The Philanthropist smirked. “The Bokuto family. Millionaires. Probably the wealthiest family in the country.”

Keiji froze. They were the other buyers of the apartment up in Central Station, the family the landlady didn’t want to rent to. Why would they want that apartment, anyway, when they could probably afford to just buy the entire building? The Philanthropist arched an eyebrow. “Recognise them?”

“No,” Keiji praised himself for being able to keep a steady voice. “I just don’t think I saw them yesterday.”

“Funny.” The Philanthropist leaned back in his chair, still watching Keiji carefully. His gaze seemed to pierce through Keiji’s stony exterior as the Philanthropist ran his eyes over Keiji’s face. Keiji fought hard to restrain himself from slapping the prying expression off his face.

_I hate you, I hate you so much-_

“Anyway, that’s not important.” The Philanthropist shrugged. “I have a new mission for you. Finally.”

“Now?” Keiji frowned. “But I start school in-“

“You have a mission right now.” The Philanthropist snapped, face turning incredibly ugly, and Keiji shut his mouth, watching him with cold, cold eyes. “You’re not going to fight against me, you got that, Keiji?”

Keiji hated the way his name fell so gently off the Philanthropist’s lips. “Got it.”

“Nice.” The Room is hazy again. “Someone’s on my ass, barking at me for money. I need to give it to him by the end of this year or I lose everything I’ve built.”

“You have debt?”

“Don’t we all?” The Philanthropist leaned forward, close enough that Keiji could smell the sour stench of tobacco from his mouth. “You think taking care of all these _children_ is cheap, don’t you?”

He spat out the word as if he was referring to rats.

“No, I don’t.”

“Good.” The smirk returned. “There’s a necklace worth 2.5 billion dollars sitting in his house, eating dust in the back of some cabinet. That necklace is their family heirloom, passed down for hundreds of generations without ever being shown off. That necklace alone is enough to pay off my debt and everyone else’s.”

“So?”

“You don’t get it, do you? I’m asking you to steal that from him and bring it to me.”

Keiji’s breathing stilled.

He could steal just about anything from anyone. He was trained to be able to do so, so he would be reliable at all times if he was not smart or strong. He was the Philanthropist’s most reliable weapon, used to grab and take whatever the Philanthropist wanted and bring it back with a 100% guarantee. He never questioned his missions, never tried to be sneaky, never tried to go for dupes. He was the Philanthropist’s favourite for that reason alone: he was reliable.

But, now, as he sat in the hazy atmosphere, the stench of tobacco surrounding his body and snipping away at his clothes, Keiji found it impossible to agree.

“Are you sure I’m the right fit for the job?” Keiji asked.

There were many other children who were faster than he was, stronger than he was, smarter than he was. They were young and innocent and wore faces deserving of candy and treats, easily tricking their victims, easily completing their tasks quickly and perfectly. They could be the perfect weapon for a millionaire.

Besides, Keiji couldn’t shake off the guilt he know he’d feel if he successfully managed to steal that necklace from the Bokuto family. Even though they were just other interested buyers to him as of now, he wouldn’t be able to live it down. The difference between the Bokuto family and everyone else he’d stolen from was that he didn’t know the other people. He’d never heard of them, never interacted with them, never even considered feeling sorry for them that an important part of their lives had gone missing.

With the Bokuto family, Keiji felt as if he’d betrayed someone just like him.

But the Philanthropist only shrugged. “Why are you doubting me?”

And Keiji knew his word was final.

-

“You okay?” Kuroo sprang up from the bed the second Keiji walked into the room.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” Keiji shot him a tired smile as he rummaged through his closet. “I’m going to take a shower. He stinks.”

“Clearly.” Kuroo wrinkled his nose as he turned on the air conditioning. “Hurry up.”

The water was too cold but Keiji stood under it anyway, letting it run soothing lines down his body as he stared absentmindedly at the white tiles of the bathroom. From somewhere outside, he could hear Kuroo’s lo-fi starting up again from the tiny speaker on his desk. Kuroo was apparently dancing because he could hear his heavy footsteps bouncing around the room.

“Kuroo?” Keiji called as he shut off the tap. He grabbed his towel and started to dry his hair.

“Yeah?”

“He assigned me on a mission.”

The bouncing stopped. A few seconds later, Kuroo poked his head through the bathroom door and said, “No way.”

Keiji shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not lying.”

“But school starts in a few weeks! Isn’t it a bit rushed for a mission right now?”

“He doesn’t care.” Keiji threw his shirt on and walked out of the bathroom. “You know that better than anyone.”

Kuroo frowned, his lips set in a tight line. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching Keiji carefully. “Isn’t there a way he could ask someone else to do it? This is too much stress for you!”

“And I thought _I’d_ have to be the one to tell you not to question him.” Keiji grinned. “I’ll be fine. All I have to do is steal a necklace, that’s all.”

“Obviously not.” Kuroo interrupted.

“Huh?  
“If that was all, you wouldn’t bother telling me.” Kuroo crossed his arms. “It’s harder than simply stealing a necklace, isn’t it, Keiji?”

Keiji sighed. “Just can’t get anything past you, can I?”

Kuroo grinned. “Spill.”

“The necklace is a family heirloom. I’ll have to go into the house to get it.”

Kuroo wrinkled his nose at the revelation. “Does he want you to die?”

“It’s worth a lot of money.” Keiji threw his towel into the washing machine. “He needs it to pay off his debt.”

“How inconsiderate.”

“Whatever. It’s not going to be difficult.” Keiji shrugged. “I’ll start tomorrow. Now, who in the world is Bokuto?”


	3. polaroid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mansion is large and Keiji is disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YIKES I had writer's block for so long and I just delayed this chapter for like,,, two weeks,,,, but yaay im back

“I’m delighted to know that you’re interested in taking a tour around the Bokuto mansion this Saturday! We have time this weekend at 10 in the morning, 1 in the afternoon, and 3 in the afternoon. Which would you prefer? I love visiting the gardens at 3, just in time to finish the tour before the sun sets because there’s a gorgeous glow that makes everything light up. It looks absolutely stunning from the west entrance!”

Keiji’s eye twitched. The lady on the phone was annoying and spewing out too much information all at once. She was speaking way too fast and Keiji was having trouble catching up. “Um, I’ll take 3 o’clock, then.”

“Wonderful! Will you be coming alone? I suggest bringing a friend. The tour is always better with a friend and it will _literally_ feel like you’re in another world. Tourists usually come in pairs, anyway. The mansion is gigantic and a little intimidating at first! If you bring a friend, I’ll take a complimentary picture for you guys by the garden entrance just before sunset!”

Keiji cast a look in Kuroo’s direction. “Want to come with me?”

He grinned. “Sure!”

“I’ll bring a friend,” Keiji said into the speaker of the phone, pulling out a piece of paper. “May I know the address?”

The lady droned on and on as Keiji inquired, occasionally getting off tracked as she mentioned anything related to the gardens. She was far too excited about the tour and Keiji winced as he thought about having to spend a precious summer weekend visiting a giant mansion somewhere at the edge of the city. He felt just like a tourist, foreign to the new mansion and new district. The address was unfamiliar and it made Keiji uncomfortable because if he were to get caught there, there would be nowhere left to run.

Thankfully, he would have Kuroo with him. Two brains are better than one.

“Will we be back before 10?” Kuroo asked, staring at the address as it showed up on Google maps. “It looks pretty far.”

Keiji stiffened. The underlying message was clear. “Not that night.”

“They told me-“

“He’ll understand.”

Kuroo paused, his fingers floating over his keyboard, face pinched as if wanting to argue, but Keiji stared coldly at the bruises around his wrists and his ankles and Kuroo knew he had no other choice. He nodded silently as he continued to type away.

“I’m going to grab a drink.” Keiji stood up, grabbing his wallet as he headed out. “Want anything?”

“Matcha,” Kuroo said instantly, the corners of his lips lifting into a happy smile. “Venti. Whipped cream-“

“I know your order, doofus,” Keiji called over his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sorry, the wrinkles on your face hinted that you may have aged-“

Keiji slammed the door behind him, rolling his eyes as a smile played on the corners of his lips. Kuroo was infuriating most of the time but it didn’t stop them from getting along perfectly.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that both of them had been abandoned.

Kuroo had been around since his first days at the complex. Keiji remembers being pushed into a cold room with stark white walls, the only chips of colour being the small 7-year-old boy with crazy raven-coloured hair sitting in the middle of the room, plucking out the yarn of the carpeting absentmindedly. Inquisitive yellow eyes met swollen green ones in the white room as lips curled up in a questioning manner spoke to loud and pitiful sobs. After an inquiry about Keiji’s inferior height and his fascinating eye colour (which Keiji had argued that the boy _also_ had), the two became fast friends, joined at the hip, doing everything together because there was no one else they knew.

It’s been like that ever since.

In fact, Keiji can’t imagine what a future without Kuroo would be like.

He shook the thought from his head as he repeated his daily ritual of turning in his phone to the Diplomat and letting his skin be inked before walking out the door. Today, the complex is unusually loud, unfamiliar commotion flooding the building and lobby.

Maybe the Philanthropist was away.

As he walked down the street, he felt the familiar chill along his spine of eyes on his figure. The shops outside 105 Main Street were familiar, some too familiar with the prying eyes of the Philanthropist’s assistants. Keiji wondered exactly how many of them were littered around the city.

_Enough so that you can’t escape._

Keiji pushed open the door of the coffee shop, digging around for his wallet as he approached the counter. It’s better not to think about that.

“Hi! What can I get for you?” The cashier’s voice sounded deeper than usual, a bright rumble that had a nice tinge to it.

“Can I have a venti matcha latte and a mint lemonade-“ Keiji started as he looked up to meet the eyes of the cashier. He froze.

Round, familiar golden eyes stared back, grey eyebrows lifting into their hair as a wide grin slowly spread across their face.

_Oh, no._

“Nameless individual!” Koutarou barked loudly, causing several heads in the shop to turn around and stare. Keiji found it hard not to stare as well, noticing that the guy’s hair was down today instead of gelled in its ugly cardboard crown, grey and black strands falling softly over his eyes. He rang up Keiji’s order, his humming (incredibly obnoxious and very loud) a stark contrast from his current gentle demeanour as he took the cash from Keiji’s hand and absentmindedly threw it into the tray. He fiddled with something beneath the counter and shoved a few bills back at Keiji.

Keiji frowned, hands remaining rigidly at his sides. Koutarou arched an eyebrow.

“Your change,” Koutarou prodded.

“I didn’t need any change.” Keiji stared, cocking his head. _Had this guy never worked a cashier before?_ “If you counted the money, you would know that I paid the exact amount.”

Koutarou blinked. “Huh?”

 _It’s infuriating that he appears to not even be joking with me. This guy is dead serious and confused._ “I already calculated the total cost and I gave you exact-“

“Ah!” Koutarou grinned, finally getting it. “My bad, my bad.”

He tossed the money back into the tray and picked up two cups. “What’s your name? You can’t dodge me now!”

“Thomas,” Keiji said without a pause. “Now leave me alone.”

“Ah, ah, Thomas.” Koutarou wiggled his eyebrows. Keiji frowned. “If you’re late to a date, you could just tell us to hurry up with the order. No need to beat around the bush and be unnecessarily cold, you know.”

Keiji huffed. This guy was unbelievable. “I am _not_ late to a-“

“Then why do you have that written on your wrist?” Koutarou gestured with his chin to the numbers on Keiji’s wrist. “3:26. You’re seven minutes late, darling.”

“These are not for a date-“

“Is it the creepy tall guy from last time? You know, the one with the rooster hair that I met at the show? He doesn’t look like he’ll take tardiness lightly unless, of course, he’s late too, which wouldn’t be that surprising…”

“Koutarou, please, for the last time-“

“You remembered my name!” Koutarou hollered, causing even more heads to turn their way. Keiji cringed in embarrassment, finding it unbelievable how this coffee shop, with its gentle jazz tunes and calm atmosphere, could’ve possibly hired this boisterous and energetic freak. How did he even get the job in the first place? Keiji’s cheeks reddened, feeling extremely self-conscious, ready to tell Koutarou off when someone else hurried over to the counter.

“Stop chitchatting, Kou.” The other barista (noticeably shorter) snapped, slugging Koutarou in the shoulder with one hand as he plucked the cups from Koutarou’s outstretched fingers. “You’re holding up the line.”

Koutarou peered around Keiji and flinched, a sheepish look spreading across his face. “Whoops, I’m sorry!”

His eyes turned back to Keiji and, rather ungracefully, shot Keiji a wink. Keiji cringed.

“I’ll be quick!” Koutarou chirped as he turned to the next customer. “Hi! What would you like?”

Keiji sighed, sitting down at a table as he waited for his order. He turned his arm over and stared at the bright blue numbers that stained the insides of his wrists, a constant reminder that he was being watched and tracked and that he wouldn’t be able to survive on his own. The ink had bled, little blue branches escaping from the numbers and filling in the patterns of his skin.

He was getting tired of it.

He was tempted to go outside and buy a phone of his own so he could be a little freer out in public but the logical part of him knew that the Philanthropist left eyes everywhere to keep a close watch on him and Kuroo. He wouldn’t be able to get it slyly without being caught in some way or another. It’s been like that for years. There’s no escape.

“I’m only making sure you don’t get hurt, Akaashi.” The Philanthropist had said when Keiji questioned him about it. “I love you, kid. There are so many dangerous people out there. I wouldn’t want my only nephew to get hurt.”

He never gave an explanation for Kuroo. Keiji knew that his reason wouldn’t be half as nice.

Keiji got beat up on the same day, anyway. He learned early on that the Philanthropist never really meant what he said.

The Philanthropist kept a closer eye on Kuroo than he did Keiji. Kuroo was probably the needle in the haystack for the complex of 105 Main Street, the diamond in the rough, a living piece of evidence that the smartest of minds could create the most dangerous of things.

Keiji learned early on that Kuroo’s extraordinary speed, incredible problem-solving ability, and unbeatable strength were not things to be proud of. He was the epitome of a perfect kid, someone athletic, strong, and smart, easily the top of the class in everything he did. He brought fame to the Philanthropist and the medals and awards that he wore at competitions worldwide brought money into the Philanthropist’s pockets. Kuroo lived in the spotlight, sticking out confidently and wearing an air of importance to him that Keiji could never share. Kuroo’s sheer ability to be good at everything made him popular and well-liked.

Kuroo had to pay a heavy price for these things.

It used to just be for fun. Kuroo would improve in these areas month by month and Keiji would be amazed, way too intrigued and proud to be jealous. Now it became a ritual, a pattern, a necessity, not for Kuroo but for the owners of 105 Main Street and Kuroo had to be the one that faced the consequences of their failures.

And oh, boy, did they fail a lot of times.

“Here you go!”

Keiji looked up, startled, as Koutarou slid into the seat in front of him. He shoved the drinks at him as he crossed his arms and leaned back, a bright smile smacked on his features.

Keiji found it annoying.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Keiji frowned as he stabbed a straw into his drink.

“There’s no one!” Koutarou said innocently, ignoring the line that had formed in front of the counter. The short barista looked like he was about to throw the entire cash register at Koutarou’s head.

“Okay, sure.” Keiji took a sip of his drink and stood up. “Well, thank you for your hospitality. You’re very nice. I’m gonna get going.”

“Wait!” Koutarou barked so suddenly that Keiji froze in his path. Keiji arched an eyebrow. “You’re not Thomas, are you?”

Keiji blinked. “I am,”

“Liar.” Koutarou grinned, standing up to meet Keiji eye-to-eye. Keiji huffed when he realised the other had a bit more height to him, towering over him by a few centimetres. Koutarou noticed, too, and grinned triumphantly. “Kiyoko told me you’re Akaashi.”

Keiji narrowed his eyes at the black-haired girl sorting through drinks at the pick-up counter. She looked up and shrugged innocently. “Oh.”

“So, Akaashi,” Koutarou wiggled his eyebrows as he grabbed Keiji’s arms and led him to the door, practically shoving him out. “You’ll come back tomorrow, right?”

“I don’t have the money to come every day, you know-“

“It’ll be on me,” Koutarou said as the door closed behind Keiji with a soft tinkle. He stuck out a hand and waved. “See ya!”

 _What a weird guy_. Keiji shook his head as he headed back down the street. He certainly wasn’t coming back to the coffee shop tomorrow. He had better things to do than spend his Friday afternoon cooped up in a small shop with a guy too energetic for his own good.

He wordlessly handed Kuroo the matcha, plopping down on his bed and crossing his legs. Kuroo looked up from his computer screen, wearing a grateful grin over his tired expression. The dark shadows under his eyes shown painfully against his pale face, the dark crescent moons adding an aura of intimidation and vulnerability, unlike anything Keiji has ever noticed before. Kuroo hasn’t slept well in days. “Thanks, Keiji.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Keiji shook it off as he pulled out his phone. “What have you been up to?”

“Online courses,” Kuroo said, turning back to the laptop. “There are a few probable courses that good schools are offering alongside the ones we’ll be taking next year. If I can fit a few into my study halls, I’ll be able to graduate with a double diploma.”

“Why would you do that to yourself?” Keiji furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s so much work. You’re already taking difficult courses.”

“I know,” Kuroo bit his lip. “But if I don’t take these, I can’t take the more challenging courses that’ll help me with the transfer opportunity next fall. Besides, if I can push myself then I should, right?”

 _Transfer opportunity_. Keiji knew as well as Kuroo that Kuroo wanted to get the hell out of this city as fast as he could, and the only non-suspicious way to do so was to leave on a transfer program.

“What do you want to do with your astrophysics degree, Kuroo?” Keiji sat up, pulling his legs to his chest as he rested his chin on his knees. He looked at Kuroo expectantly.

Silence.

“I’m not asking you what the Philanthropist wants you to do.” Keiji continued. “I’m asking you what you want, and I know you don’t want to stay here for the next sixty years of your life, or until they get tired of you and send you off.”

“I want to be an engineer,” Kuroo interrupted. There was a dazed look in his eyes as he focused on the wall behind Keiji’s head, not focusing on anything in particular. “I want to… design a satellite. With NASA. With some of the smartest people in the world. And I want it to stay up there for a long time because it would mean I had succeeded.”

“I’m afraid to tell you this but that’s impossible. You’re literally the smartest person on Earth, Kuroo.” Keiji grinned as Kuroo threw his head back and laughed.

“There’s always room for improvement,” Kuroo winked, but the words left a cold chill down Keiji’s spine because he’s heard them before, and he knows Kuroo hears them repetitively in the cold room. But he didn’t have time to worry about that because Kuroo was pointing to the side of his cup, an eyebrow arched. “You gonna call them back?”

“Who?”

“Kou… ta… rou.” Kuroo squinted to read the small print.

“Huh?”

“Keiji, you absolute dimwit.” Kuroo snatched the cup from Keiji’s hand and pointed at the fine line of numbers scribbled against the coffee shop’s logo. Keiji’s eyes widened in surprise as his breath hitched in his throat. _What a sly bastard._ He didn’t even _notice_. “Are you telling me you had a guy’s number written on your cup the entire time and you didn’t realize?”

“I-“ Keiji stuttered, grabbing the cup back as he stared at the name and numbers written in black Sharpie. _Koutarou._ He had some nerve. “Uh-“

“Text him, dumbass.” Kuroo grinned. “You’ve got someone waiting for you.”

“He’s just a barista in the coffee shop.” Keiji rolled his eyes. “The guy you saw talking to me back at the ‘Lion King’ show. Besides, I’m not obligated to. I don’t really care.”

Kuroo blinked, face frozen in confusion, before turning away and offering a careless shrug “You do you.”

The weekend came way too soon and Keiji found himself worrying his lip between his teeth on a Saturday afternoon as he stood outside the gardens of the Bokuto mansion, Kuroo leaning against the gate as he played Fifa absentmindedly on his phone. He hissed once in a while when he lost a game, the metal gate creaking behind his back as he whacked it angrily.

“She’s late,” Keiji said as he tapped his foot impatiently. “I can’t believe this.”

“To be fair, we _were_ extremely early.” Kuroo piped up. “I didn’t know it only took thirty minutes to get here. We shouldn’t have left so early.”

“It’s always better to be early than to be late,” Keiji said haughtily, checking his watch. “She’s seven minutes late. This is no proper etiquette.”

“It’s just seven minutes, Keiji.”

“Seven minutes is a lot-“

“Hey, is that her?”

Keiji looked away from Kuroo and spotted a red figure walking - no, _running_ \- towards them, getting closer and closer as she dashed through the garden. She waved excitedly when she spotted them, panting as she approached the gate and pulled out the key. She unlocked it with a bright grin.

“Sorry, I’m late!” She said, ushering them in with a beckoning hand. “We had a surprise family visit earlier. I didn’t know it would take me so long to get them sorted! Sadly, this means one corner of the mansion is off-limits, but you’ll still get to see the full thing!”

“That’s okay!” Kuroo said brightly, walking in first and swiftly covering up Keiji’s figure with his back. He shot her a flirtatious grin, a corner of his mouth kicked up in an upwards smirk. _Ever the charmer_ , Keiji thought amusedly. “The gardens are so beautiful!”

“They are!” The girl gushed. “I’m Yachi, by the way. I’ll show you a tour of the mansion first, and then we can come back out to visit the gardens!”

The red light blinked on the video camera hidden in Keiji’s ring.

“Here is the main parlour!”

Keiji looked up from the mansion map as Yachi led them into a large room that felt intensely warmer than any of the other rooms they’d previously seen. Kuroo leaned towards her, ooh-ing at the interior design, not hesitating to ask questions about the furniture, the curtains, _basically everything there was to ask about someone’s parlour._

 _It_ is _a good distraction,_ Keiji thought as he scanned the room for a particular sapphire necklace, frowning when nothing met his eye. He was starting to give up. It wasn’t anywhere to be found. Kuroo, noticing his discomfort and growing frustration, gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder.

“It’s not going to be _that_ easy to spot, anyway,” Kuroo said.

Keiji huffed. “As if I didn’t know that already.”

Suddenly, there was a loud commotion coming from the hall outside, a flurry of sneakers squeaking on clean floor and Yachi’s name shouted repeatedly, and Keiji ripped his gaze from the interior of the parlour to the doorway, where footsteps slammed against the marble floor. Yachi winced as she hurried over. “Kou, we have visitors right now-“

“I set the kitchen on fire.” A breathless voice gasped as the footsteps stopped. The person paused, panting, as Yachi fretted over him. “I’m sorry. I was really hungry and there was no one inside the kitchen, so I figured that I could just make something myself, you know? I didn’t know that I shouldn’t add wine to a steak in the pan when there’s-“

One lanky leg made its appearance in the parlour as the owner made his way inside. The voice stopped, and Keiji snapped his eyes over to the new visitor.

He froze, because the world had funny ways of turning against him.

“Akaashi!” Koutarou yelled, a happy grin replacing his previous worrisome expression. “What are you doing here? Hey, you never called me back!”

Keiji gawked, all plausible words stuck in the back of his throat as he tried to form some sort of response. Yachi stared, eyes flickering between Koutarou and Keiji, trying to process what was going on. Kuroo seemed to be the only one unfazed.

“Koutarou, right?” Kuroo said, a smirk slowly growing on his face. “You’re the one who left his number on Keiji’s cup the other day.”

“Bingo,” Koutarou grinned, “matcha king. Also ecstatic Lion King fan. We love that.”

Kuroo laughed. “I’m very impressed that you remember me-“

“Why wouldn’t I?” Koutarou interrupted. “You nearly broke my arm the first time we met. I think that calls for some sense of familiarity.”

Kuroo winced. “Did I? Sorry, I thought you were harassing Keiji.”

“Keiji!” Koutarou’s eyes brightened. “What a pretty name!”

“What are you doing here, Koutarou?” Keiji sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He was getting a headache just listening to Koutarou talk and it hasn’t even been a minute.

“What am I doing here?” Koutarou repeated, frowning. “I live here.”

Keiji froze, a cold chill spreading across his arms as goosebumps rose in their place. Kuroo cocked his head to one side. “You what?”

“Yeah, I live here but not really, since I have my own apartment uptown.” Koutarou shrugged. “I just spend my weekends here sometimes. And the summer. And my holidays. It’s nice coming back since this place is so big, but I didn’t realize there were visitors today, so I didn’t bother telling Yachi ahead of time. Sorry about that.”

“Bokuto,” Keiji interrupted. “You’re…”

“Bokuto Koutarou.” Koutarou grinned. “Bingo again! My, I thought you would’ve realized earlier than this. People say I look like my dad. Oh, hey, Yachi, do you think you can help me with the pan in the kitchen? I think the metal melted right off.”

The tour ended with Koutarou tagging along, making boisterous and obnoxious comments whenever Yachi pointed something out. Kuroo loved the energy and the company and the two of them chimed in with each other, growing excited over the same things. Keiji stayed at the back of the group with Yachi, fiddling with his fingers as he searched desperately, but without avail, for the blue sapphire necklace. Yet it wasn’t in any of the rooms they’d come across, and Keiji was getting restless.

 _I can’t go home empty-handed with nothing but useless footage._ Keiji thought as they returned to the gardens. _The Philanthropist said it was here, so where is it?_

By the time they’ve finished touring the gardens, Keiji was growing frustrated and disappointed. The necklace clearly wasn’t in display, maybe literally hidden somewhere in a closet, and Keiji felt like he’d wasted an afternoon for nothing.

Koutarou waved as he headed back inside the mansion, warning Keiji that if Keiji didn’t text him back he may just actually spam him with texts, and Kuroo and Keiji followed Yachi to the entrance, where Yachi pulled out her polaroid.

“Remember to smile and look youthful,” Kuroo said as he slung an arm around Keiji’s shoulders.

“Shut up Kuroo, you piece of scum,” Keiji said as they stood next to each other in front of the entrance. Yachi fiddled with the camera in her hand, the old thread of the camera’s strap threatening dangerously to snap.

“Get ready!” She chirped as she held the camera up. “Oh, isn’t the sunset just so gorgeous right now!”

“If golden hour is predicted to make our faces prettier, will I be a golden piece of scum?” Kuroo asked.

“Beautiful, golden piece of shit,” The words came so absentmindedly that Keiji didn’t even realize what he’d said until the words were out. There was a pause of silence before Kuroo burst out laughing, a loud, ugly cackle escaping his mouth, so unpredicted that even Keiji let a surprised grin slip.

He heard the shutter of the camera, and the moment was frozen in time.

Later that evening, Keiji hung the Polaroid pictures on equal ends of their room as the screaming filled the white noise. He was disappointed with himself, disappointed that the footage he recovered did little to help find the necklace, and as the screaming got quieter but more painful, Keiji felt like he’d betrayed Kuroo the most.


	4. white

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji and Inuoka could only sit in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i say i was back? HAHA SIKE this took me ONE MONTH to finally get motivated to publish and i am so sorry about that  
> i hope you enjoy it! we dig a little deeper into kuroo's situation and koutarou's endless pining :)

The next time Keiji stopped by the cafe, it was with a handful of bills and a face full of regret.

He shouldn’t have told the Philanthropist that the Bokuto mansion had no helpful information on the whereabouts of the necklace. Moreover, he shouldn’t have told the Philanthropist that he couldn’t find the necklace in the mansion, even with Kuroo with him.

Now that he thought about it, he shouldn’t have mentioned Kuroo’s name to begin with. He shouldn’t have brought Kuroo along in the first place.

They’d spent hours sifting through the footage but coming out of it empty-handed with no information to spare other than various hidden doorways throughout the mansion and the sizes of different key slots. It was all useless information if they didn’t know where the necklace was.

The Philanthropist had regarded the information with a sickly sweet smile, drumming his fingers along the table as he leaned far too close to Keiji. “Would you do me a favour, Keiji?”

When Keiji headed back to the room to change into a pair of sneakers, he noticed that Kuroo wasn’t there. He’d run down the hallway as fast as he could, slamming roughly into Inuoka’s shoulder in the process, apologizing and asking if he knew Kuroo’s whereabouts and receiving a knowing stare in response.

In all honesty, Keiji knew he didn’t have to ask. Keiji knew just as well as anyone else in the complex where Kuroo was and, just like everyone else, he didn’t dare to fetch Kuroo himself. He knew what would happen tonight and as the digital clock behind the reception ticked by with every minute, Keiji felt the dark, looming dread gather at the pit of his stomach.

He had to stop blaming himself for that, Keiji thought angrily as he shoved the door of the cafe open. It didn’t matter if he found the necklace in the mansion or not. None of it was consequently his fault, anyway. If he was going to spend time worrying about it, he might as well find a practical solution to it so he could be productive.

A loud hoot interrupted his chain of thoughts.

“Finally!” Koutarou cheered when Keiji looked up, startled, as their eyes met. He winced as he took a double-take at Koutarou’s new raging hairstyle, a contrast to his old soothing coffee shop hair as the familiar cardboard crown from the first night they met stared back at him in greeting. _My God. I do not have the energy to deal with this right now._ “You really love avoiding me, don’t you?”

“You’re just a bit too much sometimes,” Keiji said without thinking twice. He blinked, an embarrassed blush warming his cheeks as he coughed. “I’m joking, of course.”

_My God, I am an ass._

But Koutarou looked undisturbed. He shrugged, turning to the cashier he was behind and wiping the dust off the screen despite the fact that Keiji was sure there wasn’t a disturbing amount of dust on the monitor to begin with. “Don’t worry, old sport. I’m told that a lot. What would you like? My treat, remember?”

_Old sport._

He leaned forward eagerly, bright golden eyes wide with excitement as he dug his hand into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. Keiji blinked twice before staring down at the large wad of bills in his hand and shaking his head. “Oh, oh... no, not today. I have a lot of orders.”

“Akaashi, my treat-“

“You can treat me next time,” Keiji said dismissively as he pulled out the post-it with all the orders. He can’t stay out for too long, the bright blue numbers on his wrist reminding him of the consequences and questioning he’d face if he even considered sitting down and granting Koutarou a chat. He scanned the orders, practicing the lull of their pronunciation quietly in his head.

“Next time?”

“Hm?” Keiji hummed as he looked up to meet an unexpected, wide, happy grin that stretched across Koutarou’s face. His eyebrows were raised high in expectance. “Excuse me?”

“You said next time,” Koutarou chirped, leaning even closer across the counter and, to Keiji’s dismay and discomfort, flicking Keiji on the head. In his eighteen years of living, Koutarou has never been shown much affection, but neither has he been flicked on the forehead, so Keiji could only emit an awkward guffaw and a raised hand as he batted Koutarou’s fingers away. “There’s gonna be a ‘next time’?”

Keiji frowned at the sharp pain that spread through his forehead from where Koutarou’s nail made contact with the skin below his hairline. This guy, this… _heinously attractive guy_ , had just flicked him on the forehead and he was left unprepared and in pain. “You’re thinking far too much into this, Koutarou. I’m not moving away. Of course, there will be a ‘next time’. Now, please, can you take these orders?”

Koutarou nodded quickly, the smile still as bright as ever, as he tapped his finger on the screen with every order. Keiji noticed how his smile seemed to falter with each passing order before stopping Keiji at order number seven, holding a finger in the air as he said slowly, “Exactly how many orders do you have?”

“Twelve,” Keiji said, fighting back a snort when Koutarou’s eyebrows shot high up on his forehead. “There are a lot of people who wanted drinks today.”

“This will take a long time,” Koutarou said as another barista (the same one from last time that was shooting daggers at Koutarou’s head, Keiji noticed) peered over his shoulder at Keiji’s extensive list, expression soon mirroring Koutarou’s own.

“This will surely keep you busy,” the barista said as he leaned back, picking up one of the cups beside Koutarou’s elbow with the order already scribbled down hastily. “Then you won’t slack off like you do every day, Bokuto.”

“Yaku!” Koutarou protested as he typed down the next item on Keiji’s list. “I _do not_ slack off! I always work hard and the customers love me! I am the charming face of your store. You should make merchandise of me, people love me.”

“They love you because you’re pretty-“

Koutarou had the audacity to blush. “Thank you, Yaku-“

“Since when was calling _you_ ‘pretty’ a compliment? Anyway, you’re merely a walking advertisement for the shop. Thank you for the increase in young, female customers.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh, Yaku,” Koutarou mumbled. “You really love me, don’t you?”

“About as much as Akaashi loves you,” Yaku shrugged. “That’s why he hasn’t texted you yet.”

 _What._ Keiji stiffened as Yaku shot him an amused grin. “What, you thought Bokuto would keep that to himself? He’s been lonely, you know, and he hasn’t stopped whining and it’s getting annoy-“

“Get working!” Koutarou interrupted, hastily shoving more cups in Yaku’s direction. “We have a lot to do.”

“You wanted me to text you, Koutarou?” Keiji asked.

Koutarou’s face reddened defensively. “Well, you _know_ that-“

“You could’ve just texted me first, you know,” Keiji said, shrugging as he tried to ignore the stiffness of Koutarou’s shoulders and the awkwardness in his stance. “I would have texted you back.”

“Right, but-“

“I’m pretty lonely as well,” Keiji added, ignoring the red scatter that formed across Koutarou cheeks. “I only have Kuroo to keep me company most days, so you can just text me and I’ll reply.”

“The issue with that is that I don’t have your number,” Koutarou said so quickly that Keiji had to stop and process his words.

“Huh?”

“You never gave me your number, Akaashi.”

 _Great. Now I am a grade-A idiot._ “I… I didn’t?”

“Yeah. That’s why I was waiting for you to call me.” Koutarou picked up the cups as he headed to the coffee machine. Keiji followed. “If I had your number, I would’ve texted first.”

“…Oh.” Keiji wanted to do nothing more than cover his ears and scream. To his horror (and obvious unexpectancy), his eyes decided to water at that very moment due to his uncoverable guilt and embarrassment.

“But…” Koutarou placed a few cups along the side of the machine as he slid a black device across the counter. Keiji walked over, picked up the device, and stared at the numbers that looked _too_ welcoming in return. He blatantly ignored the many owl stickers that covered the phone case and the home button. “You could always just give me yours right now.”

“Well,” Keiji coughed as Koutarou hurried back to the machine. “I suppose I _could_ …”

“You said you were lonely.” Koutarou continued. “I’m sure Kuroo is great company but I could be great company too!”

“I’m sure you can, Kou-“

“Hey, do you have some time?”

Keiji froze, the question lingering on Koutarou’s lips as he dashed back to the counter, shooting Keiji a grin. “Huh?”

“My shift ends in around ten minutes.” Koutarou continued. “If you’ve got some time after this, let’s go hang out!”

Keiji could only gawk awkwardly as his mind screamed with reactions. He felt like a billion fireworks were blowing up his brains because of his sheer difficulty to _come up with a simple answer_.

_You have to say no._

_Well, you don’t_ have _to. They don’t have time to punish you tonight anyway._

 _Right, because they’re punishing_ Kuroo _._

_But Koutarou-_

“Did you have plans?” Koutarou asked, gesturing with his chin to Keiji’s wrist. Keiji glanced down at the familiar blue, his heart sinking as he realised he could only come to one conclusion. “You’re late again, by the way.”

“Oh, no,” Keiji said hurriedly. “I’m not late but I have plans so, uh, I’m going to have to turn you down. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re avoiding me, Akaashi,” Koutarou said and all but _pouted_. Keiji visibly winced because _it was lowkeykindofcutebutIshouldn’tbethinkingthesethingsbecauseIshouldnotmakefriendsohGodohGodsavemyass_ -

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“But you never have the time for me!”

“That’s because I hate last minute things.” Keiji slid the phone back across the counter where Koutarou picked it up with furrowed eyebrows, only to break into a giant grin at the new contact that’d just been added. “Text me the next time you’ve got something.”

“Bokuto, stop slacking off!” Yaku hollered from the other end of the cafe.

“Right!” Koutarou shoved the phone back into his pocket as he shot Keiji a thumbs up. “You better be expecting me!”

Twelve drinks were a lot to carry back, but Keiji’s heart felt significantly lighter than it did when he first left.

-

“You look happy,” Inuoka said as Keiji sat down in front of him. Keiji handed him the drink, which Inuoka accepted gratefully. He took a long sip and smiled into the wall. “Mmm, yes. Mocha.”

“And that was the last one. Good God, my arms are so sore.” Keiji yawned, stretching his arms over his head as he leaned back into the couches. Inuoka raised an eyebrow.

“You tired?”

“Couldn’t sleep well last night,” Keiji replied, scratching his nail along the black lettering of his order on the cup. The marker scratched off satisfyingly. “You should totally give me that tea your mom brews. It’s great.”

“You know, you can see him today,” Inuoka said quietly.

Keiji stilled. “Excuse me?”

“Kuroo,” Inuoka fiddled with his straw. He coughed as he struggled with finding the right words. “They won’t be doing anything really good to him. I was there when the medication was made… and it’s a new admixture they haven’t tested, not even on the lab rats.”

“You can’t say it like that,” Keiji said. “Nothing is really better than the rest. It’s all preparing him for the next medication and the next.”

“Right… but they’re trying something new on him tonight.” Inuoka swallowed. “I think you’d want to be there when it happens.”

“When are they going to stop?”

“They’re not. As long as more chemicals could be made, they’re not going to end it here.”

“And you’re saying they’re going to use this one without testing it first?”

“They didn’t bother. The rats will die. That’s for certain.”

“What is it this time?”

“It’s calcium-chloride-based. They’re injecting him like concrete.”

They were silent for a moment, Keiji sipping quietly on his drink as Inuoka swirled his straw. Both had a million questions they wanted to ask the other but they found that it was an ill place to ask them, sitting in the middle of the lobby while people walked in and out. In the end, Keiji spoke up first.

“When would they be doing it?”

“They’re running tests from the previous medications before that, so be there at around 11:20 to be safe. The Philanthropist won’t be there tonight, so you should be fine.”

“They don’t mind that you’re telling me this?”

“Why else would they say this when I was still in the room? The surgeons aren’t as evil as you think.”

Keiji swallowed. “They could always fight back. They don’t _have_ to give him the drug. They’re not _entitled_ to do anything. They don’t have to give it to him.”

“Both you and I know that that’s impossible.”

-

He pulled the jacket over his shoulders and locked the door behind him.

The hall was empty save for the giant plant at the end of the hallway and the array of shoes outside doors. The broken light from earlier that morning had gotten fixed and a soft yellow glow filled the hallway. Making sure not to trip over the wide assortment, Keiji headed down the hall to the elevators.

It was well past 11. Most of the kids had gone to bed and all Keiji could hear were the dull tunes of different songs played through the cracks under the doors and the sounds of familiar voices chatting.

And the screaming. He could never ignore the screaming.

The elevator chimed open and Keiji stepped in, scanning the panel for the twenty-third floor. The laid-back jazz played lazily as Keiji leaned against the glass, sighing heavily as the elevator made its slow ascent. He scanned the ads stuck to the walls of the elevator. There was a jazz night scheduled for next Saturday. A buffet breakfast service on Sunday mornings. Some report about a burglar. Nothing substantial.

The elevator stopped with a jolt and the heavy doors slid open.

The screaming was louder on this floor. The hallway looked far less welcome, the carpet stripped to reveal hard stone floors that echoed whenever Keiji walked. The Philanthropist opted for white lights, too bright for Keiji’s taste and leaving the hallway in tasteless and gloomy shadows. The doors of the apartments had been replaced with heavy wooden doors, made to securely keep any noise from entering and escaping the rooms. There was no light slipping from the cracks under any of them.

Except for the one at the end of the hallway.

This one, in particular, was one that haunted Keiji like a memory that didn’t want to go away. He craved the warmth this memory could never give him and as he approached the door, he could only think about the hundreds of things he wanted to say to the people within.

They were all variations of the same sentence: why the hell are you doing this to him?

The answer was obvious and Keiji was in denial.

He opened the wooden door and was met with a block of metal in answer.

The familiar metal door of the cold room always left chills along his body. The doorknob was always cold and always rattled whenever touched. He swallowed the dread piled high in his stomach and he pushed the door open.

He was met with a gust of cold air, a result of the blast of air conditioning in the room. The room was freezing, evident from the long sleeves worn by everyone in the room.

Everyone except the person Keiji came to see.

In the centre of the room, a familiar raven-haired boy looked up in exhaustion. His arms were tied down to an elevated metal chair and his legs were bolted against the sides. All the lights in the room were turned on, bright white against the dark clothes that hung loosely off his body. Samples of chemicals littered the ground beside Keiji’s feet. Syringes and tissues were stacked high on the small table beside the chair. Several surgeons turned their heads to look Keiji in the eye.

Keiji kept his eyes on the boy in the middle of the room. The colour was drained from his skin, dark shadows underneath his golden eyes as he regarded Keiji with some sense of recognition.

A tired smile made its way onto his face, a gentle relief against the beaten expression. The eyes glinted.

“Idiot.”

“I’m still not sure why you came today.”

Keiji rolled his eyes as he tossed the toothpaste to Kuroo, who caught it with expert skills and a sly grin. He squeezed in-between Keiji and the wall and Keiji clicked his tongue as he scooted over to make space.

“I had to make sure I wasn’t alone in our room while you died in their sticky hands,” Keiji said, rinsing his mouth and straightening up to look himself in the mirror.

“For the last time, Keiji, I’m not going to die.”

“I’ll believe that when we’re out of here.”

It was Kuroo’s turn to click his tongue. “I’m fine, honestly. You don’t always have to bother yourself by visiting me.”

“It’s not a bother. I wanted to see you. You weren’t in the room. Thus I only had one option.”

“You could’ve just waited.”

“I’m impatient.”

Kuroo snorted and Keiji broke into a grin. Kuroo shook his head, sticking his toothbrush into his mouth leaned against the wall. Keiji adjusted the towels on the rack, falling into their easy silence until Kuroo rinsed his mouth.

“You finally texted loverboy back?”

Keiji gawked. “Loverboy?!”

“Bokuto. Also the kid we’re supposed to steal a rich-ass necklace from.”

“Okay, you don’t have to remind me of that.” Keiji shuddered. “It’s not our problem anymore.”

“It isn’t?”

“We failed our mission. He probably assigned it to someone else.”

“Hmm, you’re right.” Kuroo shrugged. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I didn’t _finally_ text him back if that’s what you’re wondering.” Keiji walked over to Kuroo, picking the toothpaste from its discarded position on the counter and putting it on the shelf.

“Oh, so you _did_ text him back. Good. I was wondering when you’d stop being a wimp.”

“I was never a wimp-“

“You should think about replying, though.” Kuroo continued, the familiar smirk back on his face. “Who knows how anxious he’s going to get? From what I know about him, he’s probably overthinking this right now. _Oh, God, I angered Akaashi with some ignorant joke I made earlier and now we are never going to get married as I’d imagined._ ”

Keiji stiffened, recalling the many unread notifications piling up on his phone that he had blatantly ignored as he got ready for bed (that he’d tried to hide from Kuroo, but clearly he’d slipped up). “How do you-“

“I’m not blind.” Kuroo walked out of the bathroom, throwing a casual grin behind him. “I can read the texts on the screen that’s lying face-up on your bed, Keiji.”

Keiji groaned in embarrassment. If this was how he was going to be treated, maybe he shouldn’t have given Koutarou his number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you guys sOMETIME


End file.
